


The Touch of Her Hand

by Persiflage



Series: Mashed Up Tropes Fics [28]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bernie Wolfe: World's Okay-est Lesbian, Canon Schmanon, Christmas Party, Elinor Campbell Lives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, First Kiss, Literal Sleeping Together, Mash-up, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Serena Campbell: Bisexual Extraordinaire, Trope de Trope, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29816448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Canon Divergence: There was no post-Fletch-stabbing kiss, no Kyiv. Bernie confesses her feelings and Serena laughs in her face.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Series: Mashed Up Tropes Fics [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960414
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	The Touch of Her Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an Anon for the Mashed Up Tropes writing meme I did last year for the tropes 60. Poorly Timed Confession and 85. Innocent Physical Contact.

Bernie knows Serena means nothing by it. The touches to Bernie’s arm or her shoulder or her back, the brushing of their fingertips when passing objects (usually patient files, but sometimes cups of coffee) and of their shoulders when walking down AAU’s corridors – it’s all innocent physical contact, she knows. She’s seen Serena with the others on the ward, and with their patients, too and knows she is a woman to whom reassuring physical contact comes naturally, easily. Unlike Bernie Wolfe, who is practically constipated in similar situations – even hugging her children (when they were in her life instead of avoiding her like a leper) was and is never easy.

She keeps telling herself that Serena means nothing by these touches. But she’s finding it harder and harder to accept that fact the more time she spends with Serena. Of course, it’s even worse once the two women start drinking together at Albie’s because Serena’s hands wander far more often when she’s a bottle of Shiraz or more down of an evening. She’ll grip Bernie’s knee or thigh while talking emphatically about whatever’s got her riled up this time, or she’ll sling an arm around Bernie’s shoulders as they make their way to the taxi rank. Worse, once Bernie starts escorting Serena home and getting out of the taxi to watch her make her way up the drive to her front door, the brunette begins kissing her good night – it’s just a peck on the cheek, nothing more because while Serena might flirt with men and women alike, but there’s no doubt in Bernie’s mind that she’s a dyed in the wool heterosexual.

It all comes to a head at Christmas. Serena, of course, hosts a party for everyone on AAU, plus selected individuals from elsewhere within the hospital. Bernie, somewhat to her discomfort, is not only not allowed to refuse to attend (she’d thought she’d been cunning in fixing the rota so she’d be doing the night shift on the evening in question, but Serena tells her that they always get locum cover, so Bernie will be free to attend), but is requested (in a tone that implies that the Major had better not think of refusing the request _or else_!) to arrive at Serena’s no later than 11am on the day of the party so she can assist Serena and Jason in decorating the house and prepping food for the party.

Major Berenice Wolfe is nothing if not stoic about accepting her own pain, so while the idea is painful in the extreme, she acquiesces to her new CO’s orders and arrives at Serena’s house at 10.30am, carrying a kitbag containing her ‘party’ clothes and the items she’ll need for an overnight stay in one of Serena’s guest rooms as she’s also been roped into assisting in the clear up the following morning.

The party goes swingingly well of course, since Serena is hosting it, and by the end of the evening even Bernie’s more than half-heartedly enjoying herself (though at the beginning of the evening she’d very much wished she could emulate Jason and decamp elsewhere as he, lucky young man, also dislikes parties so has gone to spend the evening with Allan and won’t return until dinner time on Sunday). Serena thanks her for her assistance as they part ways once everyone else has gone home and Bernie, made bold by the punch she’s been drinking and how gorgeous Serena looks in her festively themed red, white, and green dress, dares to finally voice something of how she feels. (Afterwards, she’ll kick herself.)

“I – uh – there’s something I want to tell you,” Bernie says, as the pair of them are standing on the landing, each a few paces from their bedroom door.

“Go on,” Serena says, nudging Bernie’s elbow with her own.

“It’s – um – it’s just that I like you.”

Serena laughs, throwing her head back and exposing her throat to Bernie’s burning gaze. “Oh darling, I like you, too. Why do you think you’re here?”

“No, I – um – I mean I more than like you,” Bernie says, feeling heat climbing the back of her neck and clenching her hands into fists. “I find you incredibly attractive. I – um – I’d like to kiss you.”

“Oh!” Serena gasps, clearly shocked by Bernie’s poorly timed confession. “Oh Major, I –”

“It’s fine,” Bernie grits out, stepping away from her co-lead. “I get it, I understand. You don’t feel the same way. Why would you?” She tries to rein in the bitterness she can hear seeping into her voice. “Even my kids don’t want anything to do with me.” She closes her eyes, grits her teeth, then says in as normal a voice as she can manage, “Goodnight, Serena.” 

She steps through the door to the guest room, leans back against it, then slides down it to sit on the floor, feeling the burning heat of shame, humiliation, and anger at her own stupidity clearing her head of the alcohol she’s consumed tonight. She remains seated on the floor, despite the protests of her back, for more than an hour, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and very occasionally spilling down her cheeks.

Eventually, and with great difficulty, she pulls herself back up to her feet, then she strips out of the black tailored trousers, forest green shirt, and burgundy tuxedo jacket that she wore to the party, and pulls on the skinny jeans, ribbed white vest, and flannel checked shirt she wore that morning to put up the decorations. She opens the window and sits on the window seat and smokes cigarette after cigarette until the world is sunk into sleep. Then she closes the window, grabs a breath mint, before packing her party clothes into her kitbag. She quietly makes her way downstairs, leaving her kitbag on the same coat hook as her black wool coat, then she moves into the sitting room and begins clearing up.

By 7am, when Serena is just beginning to stir, the ground floor of the house is spick and span with no sign that a party took place the night before. Bernie scribbles a brief note to Serena on her shopping list pad and leaves it in the middle of the kitchen table. Then she pulls on her boots and coat, shoulders her bag, and quietly lets herself out of the house.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

By the time Serena makes her way downstairs, the brunette is surprised to find her house looking impeccably tidy. She doesn’t notice Bernie’s missing coat and boots, but she does spot the note on the kitchen table.

_Dear Serena_

_I’m sorry for making an ass of myself last night. Put it down to the punch and the spirit of the Season. You needn’t worry that I’ll ever allude to the matter again. But if I’ve made things too awkward, then let me know and I’ll leave._

_Bernie._

Serena feels completely shocked. She had thought it was just the punch and ‘the spirit of the Season’ that had led to her friend and co-lead confessing to a desire to kiss her the night before. It hadn’t occurred to her that Bernie was serious. She stares at the note a while longer, then makes herself some strong, hot coffee and heats a chocolate croissant in the oven for breakfast. She wonders if Bernie had any breakfast: there are still three more croissants in the bag, and there’s no sign of a mug of coffee being made and consumed. She frowns, then shakes her head and concentrates on her breakfast because she doesn’t yet feel awake enough to think clearly about what she’s going to do – if anything – about her co-lead’s confession.

All day, Serena contemplates Bernie’s confession and the note she left her, and in the end she decides to do nothing about it. She likes Bernie a lot, finds her very good company, as well as a fantastic and fearless surgeon, but she doesn’t feel any desire to move their friendship beyond what they currently have.

On Monday morning she walks onto AAU to find a baffling absence of Bernie Wolfe. It’s not until she opens her emails that she finds a message to say that Bernie’s switched to nightshifts for the next couple of weeks so that their staff can fully enjoy the Christmas season. Serena frowns at the email, but cannot argue with Bernie’s logic, much as she’d like to. She can’t help thinking it’s typical of the Major, though – she does have a strong tendency towards being noble and self-sacrificing.

They see each other briefly at the end of Serena’s shift and the start of Bernie’s for the ward handover, and Bernie’s maintaining that stoic air that Serena’s seen her deploy often in situations that make her feel emotionally uncomfortable, so she makes no mention of her party nor the conversation afterwards. She just offers a ‘thank you’ to Bernie for her clean up of her house, which elicits a tight nod and pursed lips. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Serena says.

“Of course,” Bernie responds, then turns towards her desk and the stack of patient files thereon.

Serena is tempted to linger, to try to make conversation, but she pulls on her coat, picks up her handbag, and makes her way out of the office.

It becomes a routine for the two of them over the next two and a bit weeks. Serena offers to get locum cover for New Year’s Eve so that Bernie can attend the hospital party at _Albie’s_ , but her offer is gently but firmly rebuffed. 

“As a general rule, I’m not fond of parties,” the blonde tells her. “So, thank you, but no thank you.”

Serena considers telling Bernie that she’d have accepted a kiss from her at midnight, but holds her tongue, instead.

Two days later her daughter Elinor, following an argument with her mother, accidentally runs down her nephew Jason in the hospital car park, and Bernie’s forced to perform emergency surgery on him. At the time she’s barely finished a lengthy trauma surgery on a motorcyclist who got sideswiped by an SUV while going around a roundabout, a surgery that’d run on well past the end of Bernie’s night shift and she’d barely made it out of theatre before they were wheeling Jason in. 

Serena notes the droop of the Major’s shoulders and the stiff way she’s holding herself, but she knows there’s nothing she can do to help because Jason needs surgery right now if Serena’s not to lose him. She is furious with Elinor for her wilful behaviour and selfishness, and doesn’t hesitate to tell her so once she knows Jason’s made it through his surgery. Elinor starts shouting at her, her tone a mixture of defiance and remorse, then she collapses as she’s storming out of the consultants’ office, and Bernie finds herself back in theatre for the third time in several hours. Serena paces the corridor outside the theatre, watching every move on the monitor. She knows Elinor’s in good hands, the absolute best that Holby has to offer, in fact, but that doesn’t stop terror clawing its way up her throat, and she’s grateful for the company of first Raf, then Hanssen.

“How is Bernie still on her feet?” asks Raf in awed tones.

“She’s used to it,” Serena says, and is immensely grateful for the fact. “She used to have to perform multiple surgeries back to back, and sometimes even under fire, when she was in Afghanistan.”

“Still,” Raf says. “We’re very lucky to have her here.”

“ _I_ am very lucky that she’s here,” Serena says, acutely aware of just how fortunate she is to have the country’s foremost trauma surgeon in her hospital.

Eventually Bernie straightens up, nods at the anaesthetist and the rest of the team, then turns towards the window and nods at Serena, too. Moments later Elinor is wheeled out, ready to be taken up to ITU. The staff follow Elinor, then Bernie last of all, trudging wearily behind the others.

As soon as she’s scrubbed out, Serena hurries over and grasps Bernie’s hands in both of her own. “Thank you,” she says, more tearfully than she’d like.

Bernie shrugs, gently freeing her hands. “Just doing my job,” she says gruffly.

“You must be exhausted,” Serena says. “And your back. Can I –”

Her offer is cut off. “No, thank you. I’ll manage,” Bernie says. 

She walks away and Serena swallows hard, blinking back tears. She straightens her shoulders, then follows in Bernie’s wake, watching as the blonde heads towards the on-call room. 

As she walks onto the ward proper, she finds Hanssen and Ric Griffin are there, and she frowns at the pair of them.

“Go upstairs, Serena,” Hanssen says gently. “Mr Griffin and I will cover for you and Ms Wolfe.”

Serena can’t help glancing in the direction that Bernie’s just gone.

“Don’t worry, Serena,” Ric says, “we’ll take care of Bernie. You go upstairs to be with Jason and Elinor.”

Serena swallows. “Thank you. Both of you.”

She heads into the office to sign out of her computer, then grabs her coat and handbag, before making her way upstairs to the fifth floor. She talks with both of the physicians looking after Jason and Elinor and is both relieved and unsurprised (because Bernie’s the best) to learn that the prospects for both of them are looking particularly good.

Serena goes in to sit with Elinor first, holding her hand and talking to her, reminding her of incidents from her childhood and teenage years. She’s a little surprised when a nurse comes in at some point and brings her a cup of coffee and a sandwich from Pulses – the coffee is exactly how she likes it, and the sandwich is one of her favourites. She asks the nurse where it’s come from and the nurse says, in an awed whisper, “It was Major Wolfe, who brought them.”

“Ms Wolfe is here?” Serena asks, surprised. It’s barely been three hours since she finished the surgery on Elinor.

“She’s next door with Mr Haynes. She said she wanted to check on her patient.”

“I see.” Serena settles down to eat her sandwich and drink her coffee, and is just swallowing the last of the coffee when the door opens, and Bernie comes in. She still looks exhausted, but she’s not moving quite as stiffly.

“How is Jason?” Serena asks quietly.

“Looking good,” Bernie says. “I was able to save most of his liver and I don’t think he’ll have any long-term side effects from the rupture.”

“Thank you.”

Bernie glances at her and Serena elaborates, “For staying to operate on both of them.”

Bernie frowns. “Well, of course I stayed. Whyever wouldn’t I? Trauma surgery is my specialism. It would hardly have made sense to go home and leave them to someone else, someone without my experience or skills.”

Serena bows her head, knowing that Bernie’s right. She still feels deeply grateful to the other woman, though. Particularly since things have remained strained between them since the night of her Christmas party. A small part of her now wishes that she’d let Bernie kiss her then, just so that she can kiss Bernie now to try to express her gratitude.

“Did you manage to get some sleep?”

“Some. Don’t worry, I can manage. I’ve had longer days than this one.”

“Of course,” Serena says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you’re not capable of judging your own capabilities, it’s just –” She pauses to swallow, aware her eyes are prickling with tears. “You saved both their lives and I can’t help thinking they’d both be in a far worse state if you weren’t here.” She can’t hold back a sob and within moments she’s groping for a tissue to stem the flood.

“Here,” Bernie murmurs, pressing a packet into her hand, then sitting in the chair beside Serena and drawing her into her arms. “Come here, love. It’s okay. I’ve got you. Let it all out.” 

Serena allows herself to be held and soothed, Bernie’s right hand rubbing circles into her back as she sobs and sobs and Bernie murmurs reassurances into her hair.

Eventually, her tears subside, but Bernie makes no move to let go of her and Serena makes no effort to sit up; Bernie’s embrace is incredibly comforting, and she feels like she could easily fall asleep in the other woman’s arms.

“C’mon, Campbell,” the blonde says, as if she’s heard Serena’s thoughts. “I need to get some more rest and I daresay you could use a nap, too, after so much emotional trauma.”

Serena straightens up, then shakes her head. “I’m not going home. I –”

“I was going to suggest the on-call room, actually,” Bernie says, her voice a little gruff. “If you think you could bear to share?”

“With you, yes,” Serena says.

Bernie’s look of gratitude cuts Serena as she realises that the other woman was expecting her to refuse, but before she can think of a way to frame an apology, Bernie says only, “I’ve got my pager. They’ll let us know of any changes in the condition of either of them.”

“Thank you,” Serena says and gets to her feet. Bernie gathers up her coat, folding it over her arm, then passes over Serena’s handbag.

They take the lift back down to AAU, Bernie’s arm wrapped around Serena’s shoulders, then make their way into the on-call room. Serena’s coat and handbag are left on the chair, then they both shed their shoes and Serena takes off her blouse and puts it on the hanger on the back of the door. When she turns around, Bernie’s already settled in the bed and for a moment she hesitates about joining her, but Bernie lifts up the duvet and gives her an expectant look, so she climbs in beside the other woman.

“A bit of a squeeze, I know,” Bernie says, “but I figure you’ll be grateful for the warmth of human contact.” 

Serena wonders if she’s imagining the _even if it is me_ tagged onto that sentence and immediately decides that she has to try to make things better between them.

“I am very grateful,” she says firmly. “Especially because it’s you.”

“Oh?”

Serena shifts to face the trauma surgeon. “You’re my best friend, Bernie,” she says earnestly. “So I’m very grateful that you’re here with me, quite aside from your trauma skills saving the lives of my daughter and my nephew.” She takes a breath. “And I’m sorry that I laughed at you when you said you wanted to kiss me. That was unthinkingly cruel of me.”

Bernie opens her mouth, but Serena places a forefinger across her lips. “Shh, Major,” she says softly. “Just because I’ve never been more than friends with a woman before is no excuse for me to laugh at you when you expressed a desire for more. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Of course,” Bernie says immediately., “You’re my best friend. And I was an idiot.”

“Why were you an idiot?”

“For thinking you could be interested in me. I kept telling myself that all those little touches you do are meaningless, just you being you. I know very well that you’re tactile with everyone, but well, you’re a gorgeous, confident, sexy and skilled woman, Serena Campbell, and I couldn’t help fancying you.”

Serena feels a blush heating her face and chest. “Thank you. I, um, I ought to confess that since the night of my party I’ve thought about kissing you.”

“You have?” Bernie sounds surprised and Serena realises that’s her fault.

“I have. I – I think I’d like to kiss you, if you still want to kiss me?”

“Now?” Bernie whispers.

“Yes,” Serena breathes, then leans towards her. To her relief Bernie reciprocates and then the blonde’s lips brush gently against hers. A second brush follows, then Bernie’s lips press more firmly against her own, and Serena reaches up to clasp the back of the other woman’s neck, holding her in place so that she can properly kiss Bernie back.

Eventually they have to break apart to breathe properly and Serena can’t help smiling at the dazed look on Bernie’s face.

“Okay?” she asks in an innocent tone.

“Mmhmm.”

Serena chuckles, then shifts on the bed, settling herself properly beside Bernie. “We should probably have that nap,” she observes, stifling a yawn. 

“Yeah,” Bernie says on a soft sigh.

They tuck themselves together on the narrow bed and as Serena finds herself falling asleep in Bernie’s arms, she can’t help feeling that, despite the circumstances, she might just be the luckiest woman alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](https://pers-books.tumblr.com/post/631673206139502592/since-youre-running-out-of-prompts-would-you).


End file.
